Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
M atilda sat at the breakfast table the following morning, the faint clinking of porcelain mingling with the soft hum of conversation filling the room. The aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air, along with the buttery scent of warm rolls. She cradled her delicate cup, the warmth seeping into her hands as she sipped and watched Charlotte and Lord Lacy exchange tender glances, their affection as evident as the golden light streaming through the window.
A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She longed for such a connection, for a kindhearted and forward-thinking gentleman. She could never wed a man who viewed his wife as a decorative piece, a mere vessel for heirs, to be seen but never heard. The thought of such a confined and unfulfilled existence set her teeth on edge.
No, she wanted more. She dreamed of Seasons filled with grand balls and lively soirées, where she could dance until her feet ached and converse with friends until dawn broke the horizon. She envisioned a family, children raised with compassion and a progressive spirit, nurtured in a household filled with warmth and laughter. But where could she find such a rare gentleman? Her closest friends seemed to have captured the last of London’s suitable bachelors.
Perhaps Scotland held better prospects…
Her gaze wandered down the table to where Lord Charteris sat, his tall frame half-obscured by the morning paper. His perfectly sculpted features peeked over the edge, a chiseled jawline that could have been carved from marble. The memory of the previous evening at the lake flitted through her mind, and heat kissed her cheeks. She had seen far more of him than propriety allowed, and what she had glimpsed left little to be desired.
Not that he had been pleased to find her swimming in his lake. His dark scowl had spoken volumes. And his chastisement was a little stinging. Still, she had no intention of curbing her habits, especially with Charlotte so delightfully absorbed in her new husband, leaving her much free time to do as she pleased.
And she pleased to swim alone at night in the lake.
“I’ve asked Billy to saddle Major for you this morning, Matilda.” Charlotte threw her a warm smile, brimming with affection. “Major will keep you safe, and you should have a pleasant ride around the estate.”
Before Matilda could respond, the rustle of paper drew her attention. Lord Charteris folded the sheet with deliberate precision and slapped it onto the table, his movements brisk. He reached for his knife and fork, focusing more on his breakfast than the conversation at hand.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” Matilda replied, eager to be away and free on horseback. “I’m looking forward to a long ride. It has been some time since I’ve been in the country, and one cannot enjoy horseback riding in town as much as one does here.”
“Should you allow Lady Matilda on Major? He’s seventeen hands, Charlotte,” Lord Charteris interjected, his deep, resonant voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room. The rich timbre sent an unexpected shiver across Matilda’s skin.
Was that concern she heard? She glanced at him, his sharp profile shadowed in the morning light. Perhaps beneath his gruff exterior lay a kernel of care—a begrudging consideration that he masked with curt remarks.
“Major will not throw Matilda,” Charlotte assured them both, her smile unwavering. “He’s steady, not flighty, and never eager to travel faster than a walk. Do not fret needlessly over my friend.”
“Perhaps Dolly or Cool would be a better choice,” Lord Charteris suggested, his brow furrowing.
“Your mares?” Charlotte chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “They’re far more likely to throw her—temperamental creatures, as you well know.”
Matilda laughed, feeling a kinship with the spirited animals. “If you think Major will do well for me, I’m happy to take him.”
“I will escort you,” Lord Charteris announced, leaving no room for argument. “I need to check on the tenant farms near the western boundary. That will give you the long ride you’re so eager for, Lady Matilda.”
There was something about the way he said long ride—a subtle weight in his words that made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it left her momentarily breathless.
With the morning sun now casting a warm glow over the estate, conversations from the breakfast table dissolved into plans for the day.
By the time Matilda stepped into the stable yard, the warm morning air carried the faint scent of hay and leather, mingling with soft nickering of horses. Saddles were being tightened, hooves stomped against the ground, and soon, she and Lord Charteris were astride their mounts, the rolling countryside stretching wide before them.
Matilda didn’t need to urge the gelding on very hard for the spirited animal to take the first hedgerow at a canter. Not as spirited as Charlotte made the gelding out to be… The rush of the affable morning air brushed her cheeks, carrying the faint, earthy scent of freshly tilled soil and wildflowers. The rhythmic thud of hooves against the soft earth was a comforting melody as they continued up the hill. Somewhere behind her, Lord Charteris trailed at a polite distance, allowing her the solitude she craved without the burden of small talk so many ladies found delightful.
She had little inclination to speak with his lordship. Unlike his sister, who was warm and welcoming, Lord Charteris exuded a guarded prickliness that set her on edge. His mere presence made her nervous, as though his dark, piercing eyes could uncover every thought she wished to keep hidden. She was never entirely certain if he liked her, even as a friend, though the question hardly mattered. He would soon be off to Scotland, leaving her free of his disconcerting scrutiny, and she would likely never see him again.
The distant thundering of hooves broke her thoughts as his lordship’s horse came alongside hers, his deep baritone cutting through the tranquil morning. “You should not take hedgerows riding sidesaddle. It’s not safe, Lady Matilda.”
Matilda fought to suppress the frown threatening her features and instead reined her horse into a calm walk. The sun-dappled, rolling fields spread around them, and she forced herself to focus on the gentle rustle of leaves in the nearby copse rather than his admonishments. “My lord, while I thank you for your kind, concerned words, please know I’ve been riding for years. I am quite capable of jumping a hedgerow while riding sidesaddle. There’s no need to fuss over me.”
Her voice remained calm, though she injected enough determination into her words to match her resolve to do as she liked. She turned her gaze to admire the view—emerald hills dotted with grazing sheep and framed by a sky so blue it might have been painted.
“I do not want to be held responsible when you break your neck being reckless on a horse you’ve never ridden before,” he persisted, his brows drawn in a frown. "It was bad enough you swim alone; nevertheless, now this."
Matilda drew in a deep breath, the scent of damp grass and distant woodsmoke grounding her. She tilted her head toward him, her expression deliberately placid. “I trust Charlotte’s assurances about the temperament of her horse. Perhaps you ought to visit your tenant farmers now and leave me to my ride. I would hate to cause you undue stress.”
“I’m not stressed.” His reply was curt as he removed his top hat and raked a hand through his hair. Strands of dark brown, gleaming in the sunlight, fell back into place.
“Really? You seem quite upset.”
She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips, though she tried to disguise it as polite amusement. His dark eyes locked on to hers, the intensity of his gaze momentarily stealing her breath. Despite herself, she noted the sharp angles of his jawline and the way his features softened in the golden morning light. If only his personality were as agreeable as his appearance.
“You find this humorous? What if you had fallen and injured yourself? I doubt you would be laughing then, madam.”
“Probably not,” she admitted with a shrug, pulling her horse to a halt. “But I am neither a child to be chastised, nor a reckless fool. I am the daughter of a duke, a woman of three and twenty, not a girl in plaits learning to ride a pony. I do not need you to lecture me on the choices I make.”
For a moment, he seemed on the verge of responding, but he hesitated, his lips parting before closing again. “Forgive me, Lady Matilda. I was merely concerned.”
Her eyes softened as she studied him. His unease was almost endearing, though she still found his manner exasperating. “Do you always chastise your sister’s friends? First the lake, and now my riding skills. What will it be next—my pianoforte playing or my card games?”
His dark brows furrowed, and he exhaled through his nose. “Your swimming in the lake was as reckless as this ride. You could have fainted, suffered a cramp, and drowned. Imagine if Charlotte had found you.”
Matilda shook her head, not wishing that on anyone, least of all her friend. “Then I would have been very sorry to cause her such pain. But one cannot live worrying about every possible mishap. We could sit here arguing about my recklessness, only for a tree limb to fall and crush us both. Do you see how absurd it is to live that way?”
“Perhaps,” he conceded grudgingly, though his expression betrayed his lingering discomfort. “But I cannot help worrying when others fail to consider the risks of their actions.”
“Truly, my lord, you should visit your tenants. I promise to finish my ride without further scandalous behavior.” Her tone was light, though her words held a finality he couldn’t ignore.
He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes searching hers. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to get rid of me?”
“Probably because I am.” Her lips curved into a teasing smile. “You’re far more perceptive than I gave you credit for.”
Lord Charteris sighed, adjusting his seat in the saddle as he prepared to leave. “Do take care, Lady Matilda. These lands are unfamiliar to you, and the hedgerows are not as tame as they seem.” He shook his head, clearly confounded by her. "I will meet you back here within the hour."
Matilda allowed her gaze to linger on his retreating form as he rode away, noting the easy grace with which he moved. A smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps he had a point about caution, but she would decide her own boundaries, as she always had.
She tightened her grip on the reins, her smile lingering as she turned her mount toward the open fields, the vast countryside promising the freedom she so fiercely cherished.
For the next hour, at least.